


noel.

by desm_nt



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Angst, Letter, M/M, attempt at an apology, overcoming, sibling hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desm_nt/pseuds/desm_nt
Summary: leave me in oblivion again and again.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. ⁰

**_for my brother._ **

_in these tired four years flooded by silence and hurtful hints, blows or drunkenness full of tears, the only thing I could do was write you an infinite number of letters. maybe someday I can give them to you, when that 16th of December became a blurred memory or when you rise up like the impressive guitarist you dreamed of being so much._

_you are a complete idiot and maybe I want you back as the brother I can trust._

Every time I tried to write something, I wondered how I should start. Because it's not the same to make formal letters to institutions as it is to make a letter to yourself, trying to fix 10 years of hate and remorse.

I always knew what to say, but now I have nothing, I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm trying to free myself from everything I've been holding back, from all that crap I keep to myself and I don't give it to anyone. I got tired of talking to you through someone or having to shut up just because I don't want this to get any worse. I don't want another year full of tears and long faces; another birthday without your screaming reminding me how old I am; another year without being able to be at least for a few moments in the same place.

I keep looking for you in the darkness of the room, whispering your name so that you can hug me and tell me that none of this really happened, that it was just a fight like all the previous ones and that we can go back to bed. But the blow of reality leaves me unconscious until the next morning, with daylight shining on my present. You weren't there, next to me, pretending nothing happened; you were gone. I have to get used to that, they always repeat it but I don't want to. I can't do it. I was so ingrained in your body that when you took me out of it I left you a big part of me, however I couldn't keep anything. Only some shirts that little by little are losing their aroma and several old nibs that are drying up.

It's hard to apologize when you know that none of them will be able to remedy all that you have ruined. None of them will make the bruises on your face disappear or the insults from your mind. Apologizing doesn't solve anything, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop waiting for you at the gate if you want to come and do it. To prove me wrong, that somewhere inside you still care about me. That despite all that anger that is destroying you still remember what we once were, those special moments that surely continue to reveal. Of the looks or the caresses, the way so eccentric that we gave each other love with words so bitter that we knew very well was not intended. Of the wonderful moments, those quiet afternoons at home, without discussions, without outbursts of anger, without anyone, just us.

I can't keep pretending that everything is perfect when the nights get so long thinking that it could have ended differently, that right now we could be lying in bed, hugging, smoking cigarettes and telling stupid jokes. That your lips could have remained attached to mine. But remembering and imagining everything that would have happened if I hadn't gotten so angry that I hurt you doesn't lead to anything, it just wraps me up in a tedious circle of constant regret.

I feel like a selfish person wanting you back, for me, with no trace of hate in our memories except love. As in those years when we were so young as to understand what we really felt, that outburst in the heart was not fraternal, but thanks to the immense closeness that we had body and heart claimed affection and you were the only one who could give it to me. You will always be the only one. Those unconscious touches that drilled into my chest so desperately to repeat them, or those daily chaste kisses that we planted on our cheeks until our lips became jealous and we had to fix them.

I see you everywhere, among the people who walk in the park even the actors on the shows we used to watch in the evenings. Because it doesn't matter that they don't look anything like each other, I get distracted thinking about anything that doesn't matter anymore, absolutely everything I see around me relates to you.

You don't know how much I had to do to feel less miserable, to stop thinking even for a while about the whole problem, about your body, about your warmth. This feeling doesn't want to go away, and I hope it never does. It destroys me, it tears off every inch of my skin, but I want to keep it because it is the only thing that makes me feel that I am still by your side. Admiring your eyelashes instead of standing far away crying like a complete idiot.

I thought hating you would be easy, hating you for your childish behaviour or for the fact that you shouted all those things at me. In fact, I don't know if I ever did. I always ended up wishing you'd show up at the door with a reprieve on your lips, I could have swallowed my pride, for you. You know, I could have done anything they asked me to do just by hearing that you were involved in it, Noel. Any fucking thing. I'd even stop what I was doing if you came and asked me to run away together.

Times are changing, it's not the magic summer of '96 anymore; everything changed and in the process we did too. We changed each other, no matter how much we wanted not to. Like that fateful night when you left with that sweet girl, leaving me alone in the room. Surrounded by unanswered questions. In the morning you came back with a smile, that wonderful smile that made me melt; you came back saying how beautiful and charming she was. It was the first time you broke me down, that I thought I was really losing you. I was certainly not wrong. Do you remember? Because I do, I remember all the times you promised me I was going to be the only one, and I ended up being the last.

Even though you've been a fucking scumbag these past few years, I still hold a special place for you. That special place that anyone keeps for a lover, or a brother; where the things that were lived with that someone are stored. Perhaps the smiles, the words loaded with anguish or need, the last touches and lively eyes about to burst. I keep you inside, like a memory that no matter how hard it tries to disappear never manages to find the way out.

I write this to you with all the courage I could muster over time, desperate for your return to be near. I know that you will never deign to take my calls, those in which I sigh but never get to say anything. In my dreams I have cried, screamed, begged you not to leave. I always run out of time, I try everything so that your steps in the sand do not erase and still I can not. Every time I wake up I wonder if I can really forget what happened, because forgiving you is something that anyone can do.

I need to learn that trying is okay, I'm not going to get over you overnight and my world is not going to end because of something like that. It's over between us and I have to record it. After all I have been able to continue without your support, without words of encouragement when I feel that things are overflowing from my hands. Your absence and your presence have made me who I am today and who I will be tomorrow. I'm fine, and I know I can keep it up.

My life does not revolve around you (although it once did), however I would like to know what is yours, what you have done with it, how you have been. Because I'm not going to deny you the fact that you gave me meaning when I didn't have it, when I was just a little kid looking for love and approval.

I spent so much time looking for a place to vent, talking to someone was no good and going to therapy was never an option. I didn't know what to do with all this mess of emotions, whether to give it up or keep it as usual, so here it is; here I am. You can do whatever you want with this letter: tear it up, burn it, throw it away. Anything. You can reflect on what has happened and leave me in oblivion again, in the end, I have fulfilled my purpose.

With contempt and a lot of love,  
your brother.


	2. ¹

A tear slipped down his cheek, wetting the blade he was holding. 

Trembling and blurred with tears, he took his seat in the armchair. He was furious, but not with his brother, but with himself. He was angry at the time he wasted being a proud shit, angry that he didn't take advantage of it to venture out and go home to ask for forgiveness. He could have tried to start over, to go back to his side; but now he was home, sitting, reading what might be the first and last letter he would ever receive from Liam. 

Another tear rolled down the paper, then another and another and another. Until a hoarse cry escaped from his throat.


End file.
